How To Tame Lions
by Kitty Sorceress
Summary: It started with a phone call. Except that was a lie. Kurt and Blaine have started college and are learning that growing up is about more than just moving away from home and relationships are about more than perfection.
1. Prologue

Prologue

It started with a phone call. Except that was a lie.

It started in the summer between junior and senior year, the summer when Kurt and Blaine spent the majority of their time watching clips on YouTube when they weren't learning the lines and shapes of the other's bodies.

Today they were making the journey back to Blaine's house from Kurt's, where they had stopped briefly after having spent a few blissful days of (relative) solitude in their (mostly) private room on the New Directions Summer Bonding Trip (enforced by Rachel), which had otherwise been a vary sheer façade for an unchaperoned vacation. In fact, Kurt was fairly sure that any bonding that taken place had really been between the couples of the club and probably not at all in the spirit of the event. He couldn't help but smile with great satisfaction at just how well he and Blaine had "bonded".

They were taking Blaine's beaten up BMW because, even a little old, it was just a _better_ car than Kurt's. Things were so gloriously comfortable between the boys. Blaine laughed at Kurt's rant about Rachel's lasted fashion disaster – the discovery of the pashmina scarf – and Kurt laughed at Blaine's terrible attempt to imitate Sarah Brightman in _Repo! The Genetic Opera_. But if Blaine had to tell Kurt to stop fussing over his bangs one more time (because really, compared to his own curls, the boy had the most amazing hair) and if Kurt had to listen to that Megan Washington album one more time (which was wonderful at first, but the novelty had worn off), they were going to experience firsthand just what _Teenage Fury_ was. It was a perfect road-trip.

And maybe it had been that album that had played on Blaine's subconscious that evening, with his parents asked them both (again) if they had thought any more(than last week) on colleges, when he blurted out: "Georgetown!"

That was how it really began, with the plan following from Blaine's lips nearly fully formed, he wanted to study psychology and help kids in a way that he and Kurt hadn't really ever had and that Georgetown would be perfect, because he could talk to Adrienne (his sister) and Robert (her husband) and maybe move into their spare room and it wasn't as distant as all that and wouldn't it be wonderful?

But Kurt sat in silence at the dinner table, as the Andersons encouraged their son.

("I'll call them right away." "You'll need to apply soon, but your grades are excellent." "Psychology is a good field." "Better than theatre, we're so glad you've come to your senses.")

They hadn't discussed this, he and Blaine. College had always been this far-off thing that was going to happen _later_ because what was happening between them, this _love_ was happening now. And they were going to choose their college together, somewhere they could each do what they loved – and psychology! Where had that even come from!

The first time Kurt had been allowed to stay the night at Blaine's was marred with their first fight, but Kurt had no car, so diva-ing out of the room and driving home at 11pm, though really wanted, was not an option. He took the bed (because the gentleman in his host prevailed through the gritted teeth and the clenched fists), Blaine took the floor (miserably), and in the morning they both felt so stupid that apologies were barely muttered before they found themselves in an impossibly tight embrace.

Blaine whispered in Kurt's ear with all the romantic intensity he could muster, "We'll sort this out."

And that was how, a more than a year later, Kurt found himself in a shared apartment in Ballston, living with three perfectly insane housemates from the Art Institute of Washington and readying himself for a career, or a degree at least, in Interior Design. Sometimes he takes the elevator to the top floor, then the fire stairs to the roof, and at sunrise, if it's a clear morning, he can just make out Georgetown University behind the other buildings. A fine mist rises from the Potomac.

So our scene is set.

The phone rings.


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

Thursday is Blaine's very favorite day of the week. Thursday is catching up with Kurt, long lunches turning into coffee, coffee again and before they know it, it's invariably dinner time. It's the only day of the school week that they both are free at the same time for a stretch; it made sense to establish it as their special time. Blaine might not admit it, but he's memorised not only his own timetable but Kurt's as well, just so he can time his text messages for best impact. This week, his favorite was _Razzle Dazzle 'em_, sent just exactly two minutes before Kurt was due to give his project proposal in this semester's textiles unit. He got _xxx_ in return, which he counted an extra _x_ of success compared with usual.

Blaine has his whole week organised to the minute, it's so very different to his Dalton days which were filled with relative apathy to his classes in favour of the Warblers, or his McKinley days when an ill-timed slushie could quickly render any sort of schedule useless. Now, between lectures and labs and tutorials, he crams in a single theatre class for interest's sake.

Mondays he gets home early and cooks dinner for his sister and her husband, Tuesdays he cleans the house – it's with little things like this that he thanks his sister for his blessedly small living costs, the perks of having a home away from Ohio that's less than fifteen minutes on the bus from College. Wednesdays he calls his parents, passing the phone over to Adrienne after giving all the reassurances that he's studying hard and _yes_, he's not _wasting_ all his time with Kurt. Thursdays, date day. Fridays mean Human Biology lab until 8pm and getting home utterly exhausted, calling Kurt as soon as he collapses on the sofa in his converted basement bedroom/sitting room/study. He'll vaguely watch minutes tick by on his vintage alarm clock as they talk and sometimes he revives himself enough to drive across the river to Ballston. Sometimes Kurt gets a cab on Saturday and arrives unannounced; Adrienne and Robert (so wonderfully supportive, so much _nicer_ than Blaine's parents) gave him his own key after a month and Blaine has woken up more than once to find another person in his bed and a cooling coffee on the bedside table. Saturday afternoons are for the library or the computer labs or sometimes he'll go across with Kurt to the design rooms at the Art Institute and do his readings while his boyfriend builds dioramas (which aren't dioramas at all and "You need to take design more seriously!"). Kurt has housemate time scheduled most Saturday nights, which seems to be mostly Project Runway reruns and occasional, illegal vodka. Blaine doesn't really need to be there for that. Sundays, he sleeps in, skips church (which he lies about to his parents) and misses Kurt (which he lies about to himself). Monday it starts all over again.

No, Thursdays are by far the best day of the week.

Today it's a week before the Christmas break and his turn to determine date night, and he has it all planned. He's picking Kurt up after lunch, which is different from usual, and enforcing a strict smarter-than-cocktail-less-than-formal dress code. He's taking him straight to this amazing bakery he found in old part of Georgetown, below M Street, near the canal. After this, they'll have dinner at Kurt's favorite restaurant. He's taking him to the Opera tonight.

It's not their anniversary, but Blaine thinks of it as the anniversary that should have been. It's two years to the day that they sang their first "flirty duet" and he could cringe when he thinks about it (the song was so inappropriate!), but he still gets this wonderfully painful feeling through his whole chest when he thinks of how he'd wanted to kiss Kurt then, how he'd had a mild freak-out because _this was his new best friend_ and _friends don't do that_ and _it's just the song talking_. It took months and a number of less-than-perfect moments for their first kiss, which was really, in the end, a whole assortment of perfect.

He wants tonight to be as perfect as that kiss, he wants every moment with Kurt to be like that. And, even though they're only eighteen, almost nineteen, Blaine knows that he wants to spend every moment of his life with Kurt. But they're only eighteen, almost nineteen, so it's not really time to think about that sort of thing yet.

* * *

><p>Kurt has one hand around a straightening iron, fixing his hair, as his other hand works to tighten the laces on the Italian leather dress shoes that Blaine gave him last Christmas. On his laptop, he's got the soundtrack from <em>The Boy Friend<em> on repeat as he recites his lines from the beach scene over again. He has become an excellent multi-tasker with a passion for community theatre.

He admits that community theatre is no substitute for glee club and nothing compared to singing with his boyfriend. In some ways, he kind of wishes that Blaine was in the theatre troupe with him, but to be perfectly honest, it's kind of nice to have something that's just _his_ too. Besides, Blaine's doing that theatre unit at Georgetown.

Hair done and shoes tied, Kurt buttons up his best pale blue shirt and goes about selecting a tie. He's got a black Bursa silk tie (Adrienne Anderson brought it back for him from her latest overseas trip, Blaine got a whole collection of them) in one hand and an old bow tie in the other when he hears the apartment phone ring.

He ignores it, dropping the black tie back in the draw and positioning the bow tie just so as he hears his roommate, Marcus, answer.

"Hey, you've reached the Quadrumvirate of Awesome, this is Mr Marcus Peters." Kurt rolled his eyes as he searched his dresser for his iPhone, keys and wallet. "Oh sorry, honey, I think he's on his way out."

Kurt walks into the living room. Marcus has the phone nestled between his ear and his shoulder as he pins large swathes of cloth to a mannequin; he looks over at Kurt, who gives a twirl of display, and gives the thumbs up.

"Kurt, it's a school friend of yours… do you have a moment?" Marcus looks apologetic as he hands over the phone.

Kurt, dropping his iPhone and keys on the counter, is fully expecting it to be Rachel on the other end of the line. They haven't spoken in a few weeks and considering the drama that's been unfolding on her Facebook – and really, that Finn-Quinn-Rachel triangle should have been solved back in sophomore year – he figures it's about time she called up to cry at him. Perhaps it's Mercedes, but she knows better to call on date day. No one else, apart from family, has his apartment number and Marcus knows Finn's voice by now.

Therefore, he is not expecting a voice that he can't place.

"Hey, Kurt?" it's a guy, somewhat softly spoken. It's an overly familiar tone but he can't put a name to it.

"Speaking. Sorry, but who is this?"

"Dave. David Karofsky."

Every muscle in Kurt's body seizes up tight; he feels the panic rising and a really intense urge to be sick. He doesn't know how to respond, but his breath hitches loud enough to make Marcus glance up again from the mannequin and for the man on the other end of the line to hear. He hasn't seen Karofsky since that afternoon just after he had transferred back from Dalton, when Blaine had to step in before things got nasty.

"I'm sorry if it's not cool for me to call you. Finn gave me your number," (which meant that really, _words_ were going to be needed about that sort of thing) "I just… I really need someone to talk to about… well, you know… about being gay."

"About being gay?" Kurt can't keep the bitter tone from his voice, "No, I'm sorry _Dave_, I can't help you. I don't think I can actually hold a civil conversation with you. Please don't call here again."

He presses the End Call button on the handset before Karofksy can respond. His hands are shaking as he passes the phone back to Marcus, who in turn puts it back in the charger. For a moment, neither of them says anything.

That… that was not the voice of the Karofsky he had known. That was a scared voice, a nervous voice. Kurt's not sure whether to feel guilty for hanging up or enraged that he even thought he could call here in the first place. He settles for a deep breath.

"D'you want me to put the kettle on? Green tea?" Marcus is nothing if not cool in a crisis. "Who was that? An evil ex-boyfriend Scott Pilgram style?"

Kurt laughs a little nervously. "Something like that. A homophobic jerk from my high school. He got expelled…" he leaves off the _for threatening to kill me and getting pretty close once_. He didn't really know or care what happened to Karofsky after that; all that mattered was that he was gone, and after a little while, it had been like he'd never been there at all. "Can you make sure if he calls here again, you say I'm not in? He's kind of… scary."

"Sure thing. The old 'He's just in the shower, can I take a message' routine." Marcus gives the showiest wink possible.

"Thanks."

There's silence again, as Kurt leans against the kitchen counter and Marcus fusses about with a teapot. They both jump as Kurt's iPhone buzzes.

He stands up straight again, pocketing the phone and keys in his suit jacket.

"That'll be Blaine. I should go."

"All the more tea for me," Marcus grins, "Have fun, say hello to your Greek God from me."

Kurt grabs his coat from the hook by the door and has his hand on the door handle, about to leave the apartment when Marcus speaks up again.

"Are you going to tell him that that guy called?"

"I'm not sure."

He decides to take the stairs to give himself a little more time to compose himself.

Blaine is waiting by his battered BMW in the parking lot. He's got that look on concentration on his face that Kurt just knows means he's playing Angry Birds and not actually typing out some all-important email.

"Hey you."

Blaine can tell just from the way that Kurt says that, something's not right. There's a shyness in his voice that he hasn't heard since before Kurt's Dalton days.

"_You okay honey_?" He can't help but sing the line as he pulls his boyfriend into his arms.

"_I'm afraid so_," Kurt sings back lightly. "It's nothing. I'm just kind of exhausted by classes at the moment."

Blaine doesn't push it. He knows that if Kurt has something to say, he'll say it.

They take a moment of just _being_, holding each other and sharing a chaste kiss, before getting into the car.

* * *

><p>This Thursday's date adventure ends out just as awesome as Blaine had hoped it would. Whatever had been playing on Kurt's mind had soon disappeared when confronted with an amazing coffee and a chai latte cupcake.<p>

They spend an hour or so in the bakery, nestled in the corner, but the place is quite loud, louder than when Blaine had come in the other morning with some classmates, and they decide to wander around town like they did when they first moved to DC, slowly and hand-in-hand. They explore Blaine's favorite second-hand bookshop and Kurt's favorite vintage clothing stores. Kurt struggles to keep Blaine away from the Gap and H&M because, _really_, despite dating a fashion freak for two years, the boy has yet to really have a sense of style knocked into him.

It gets dark early this time of year and the cold is starting to set in. Burdened by their purchases, they walk back to the car. Blaine has been keeping an eye on his watch all afternoon. He's planned their itinerary to the minute and is doing a spectacular job, in his own opinion, of making it look like the most casual thing in the world. But when they pull up outside the fancy seafood place that Kurt goes on and on about, the casual concealment is quickly melting away.

"So," Kurt raises an eyebrow, "This is why you had the dress code? Because I'm pretty sure I didn't need a suit and tie for bouillabaisse."

"Hmm," Blaine winks at him, "Not quite. Just you wait, oh you of little faith."

Kurt doesn't seem entirely convinced and Blaine is pretty sure that his boyfriend expects the night to end in an unsolicited public serenade and some serious cuddling on the sofa later on, which is probably justified, as it wouldn't be the first time. In fact, Blaine is really enjoying confusing Kurt tonight, going all out and ordering the next-to-most expensive three courses on the menu for the each of them. If they were a little older, he'd probably have ordered champagne too.

"It's not our anniversary, Blaine. What is this?"

They'd finished their white chocolate mousse with raspberry coulis and Blaine had paid the check. The plan had been to just turn up to the theatre and tell Kurt about it all at the Opera when it was too late to go back, but Blaine can't really keep a secret that long and the confused look on Kurt's face, adorable as it is, is dangerously close to morphing into pissed off as they walk back to the car again, and that's a fine line he doesn't really want to encounter.

"It's me showing you a good time for one of our anniversaries that could have been. Sometimes I like to count from the day I met you, or from that duet before Christmas," he waves absently at the air, attempting to indicate a sense of _this_, "or that disaster of a Valentine's Day, or that afternoon in your room when you practiced your sexy faces."

He can't help but smile at the stunned, flustered look on Kurt's face.

"That's… that's so thoughtful." 10 points to Gryffindor. "But it doesn't explain the suits."

"The suits," Blaine gives what he hopes is only the most dapper of smiles, "are for the opera. I'm taking you to see La Boheme."

And in that moment, looking at the closed-off expression on Kurt's face, Blaine thinks that he's screwed things up and he'll never, _ever_, take dating advice from Wes ever again. He can practically see the cogs in Kurt's head clunking through the thought of doing something so very, well, snobbish. He certainly doesn't expect to be pressed against the driver's side door, the lithe mass of his boyfriend leaning comfortably against him, soft lips on his own. It's quite nice, actually, to be surprised in turn sometimes.

"You… are the most… amazing… insane…" Kurt mutters, between kisses, not even finishing the compliment.

In fact, it's some sort of miracle that they end up getting to the theatre on time, all things considered.

Yes, Thursdays are really Blaine's favorite day of the week.


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

In a word, you could say that Kurt's life at this point was perfect.

How many small-town (or, technically, small city) gay kids could say that their mechanic father was happily supporting them through a design college chosen, for the most part, for its proximity to the college of their high school sweetheart?

How many kids who'd spent their sophomore and junior years of school getting tossed into dumpsters and pushed into lockers ended up with a tearful going-away party from an eclectic group of friends that even Kurt could have never dreamed of before he started glee club?

How many young men could boast a boyfriend as handsome and intelligent as Blaine?

How many people lucked in with roommates they could not only stand to share a room with, but they genuinely enjoyed the company of?

In fact, Kurt considered himself especially blessed when it came to his roommates. He wondered if maybe this was more out of sheer relief when he met them, rather than actual compatibility in an enforced friendship, but he really couldn't have asked for a better group of guys to live with.

Marcus, the fashion major with a flair for flirtation and disastrous romances, the eldest of their group by one Bachelor's degree already, was attempting a career change. Although not as fastidiously neat as Kurt, he kept his various belongings firmly to his side of their shared bedroom and always asked for express, and occasionally written, permission before borrowing anything of Kurt's. He's almost irritatingly nice, but a slight alternative streak and a penchant for herbal tea and strong incense certainly precludes him, however slightly, from winning any "Best Roommate Ever" awards.

Actually, Kurt's really glad he's sharing with Marcus and not with Deakin or Toby, the boys who share other bedroom in the apartment. Those two came to college to study film and they're from the same small town around an hour and a half away, somewhere near a ski field; practically brothers, Deakin is just made to be behind a camera, Toby is obsessed by old Sword-and-Sandal epics. Kurt hopes that maybe, one day, he'll be that close with Finn.

And despite the fact that the apartment is basically run by one of the biggest divas this side of New York, it's just so very much the home of four not-quite-grown-up boys. The fridge is generally filled with a lot more junk food than vegetables and it's not unusual for Saturday evenings to end in a complaint from the girls next door, when debate gets heated over whether it was Romulan or Andorian Ale in Star Trek that was blue (in fact, the answer was both).

What makes him especially happy in his allotment of roommates is how well they all get along with Blaine. They're always happy enough to have him around, more than happy to offer a soda and a couple rounds of Halo on the Xbox if Kurt's in the middle of something when he arrives.

So really, even if life isn't perfect, Kurt's not really in any position to complain.

This is probably why he's kind of put out, more than anything, by the thought of Karofsky calling him.

He starts to think about it after he gets home from opera. It's really very late now and the apartment is empty, the mannequin Marcus was working on earlier sitting abandoned by the kitchen counter, a whiteboard has appeared near the TV since this afternoon and is covered with what looks like some sort of storyboard. Kurt feels an oppressive sense of loneliness all of a sudden and kind of wishes he'd invited Blaine upstairs despite their early morning classes.

There's a post-it note on the bedroom door, Marcus' handwriting. _Out for a few drinks. That Dave kid called again. I think he was crying._ And that throws Kurt off even more, because he's actually kind of worried about the jerk now. He pulls the note off the door and screws it into a ball, shoving it in his coat pocket.

He walks into the room, haphazardly tossing his coat over a chair, toeing off his shoes. He looks at his watch - it's 11:32pm, too late to call Finn now, and there's no return number for Karofsky and it's not like he's going to call the guy who made his life a living hell for most of high school, anyway.

Kurt is flustered enough by it all that he barely notices as he undresses, changes into his pyjamas and ends up brushing his teeth twice because he forgets the first time. He doesn't know how to feel as he climbs into bed, so he just pulls up the comforter and puts a spare pillow over his head. It's like a comfortable cave where the world can't get to him.

He ignores it when Deakin and Toby crash through the front door around fifteen minutes later, calling out to him.

"Hummel! You left the lights on!

"You global warmer!"

"Shame!"

Sometimes it's like being back with the Warblers in this apartment.

He pretends to be asleep when they open his bedroom door and before long he's drifting off, but it's by no means a comfortable sleep. He knows he wakes up some time early in the morning, when Marcus comes in and tries really hard to be quiet. Kurt thinks he might have snapped at him to be quieter, but he's in that half-asleep state where he's not sure what's a dream and what's actually happening. In fact, when he wakes up late the next morning, and Marcus' bed is tidy and made, he wonders if his roommate even came home at all.

Before he even glances at his iPhone, Kurt knows he's slept through his alarm and through his morning classes. His eyes itch for want of a better night's sleep, his head is foggy.

He doesn't even care right now. He needs to call Finn.

Pulling on a thick bathrobe over his pyjamas and putting a pair of thick socks on his feet because, _shit_, the tiled floor is cold, Kurt wanders into the kitchen and attempts to locate a clean glass (someone forgot to do the dishes) and the orange juice (which has ended up in the freezer somehow and is a little iced over), acknowledging Toby, who is sat at the table with a large collection of wooden beads and a ball of yarn, with barely a nod.

Taking his juice with him, Kurt curls onto the sofa and finds Finn's number in his phone, pressing the call button. Finn picks up after two rings.

"Hey there, step-bro. Wasn't expecting your call til tomorrow. What's u-"

"Where do you think you get off giving my number out to idiots like David Karofsky, Finn!" Kurt snaps, causing Toby to jump and a large number of beads to loudly clatter to the floor ("Sorry!")

"I… I…" Kurt can just hear Finn's thinking face. "He's gone different, Kurt."

"Oh yeah, how so?"

"So, he got back from college two days ago, yeah, home for Christmas, and right off he turns up at Santana's office with a massive bunch of flowers and a note saying sorry. I mean, she totally tried to scratch his face off, but it's the thought, right?"

"Hmm." Kurt isn't impressed, so tries to make his reaction as non-committal as possible.

"Santana tells Brittany, then Britt calls Quinn and before I know it, I'm sitting there at Breadstix with Puck and the guys when Karofsky walks in." Finn makes a noise that sounds somewhere between exasperation and anxiety. "You should have seen him, Kurt. He looked so strange. Like, kinda drained."

Kurt takes a sip of his juice. Toby is making an unnecessary amount of racket with the beads. Kurt gives him a look, the noise stops.

"So he walks over and says to us 'Hey you guys, this seat taken?' and Puck stands up and he's really angry, but Karofsky just backs off and is all 'It's okay dudes, I understand. I wouldn't want me around either'. We're all thinking, _what the hell_? And he just leaves again. It was weird, man. Anyway, so later that night, I'm watching the game with Burt and the phone rings. It's Karofsky and he's sounding really worried and all he keeps saying is he's sorry for how terrible he was at high school and how he could really use some friends and how he 'knows now' and I didn't know what to do… I thought you could help him."

Kurt's voice is barely a whisper, "Help him? Finn, he tried to bash my head in."

"I know, but I think he needs someone like you to talk to."

"I am not a gay counselling service for the teenage boys of Ohio!" he hisses and, once again, the beads go scattering off the table behind him. He sighs, "I'm not happy about this, Finn."

"It's okay, dude. I think he was pretty upset that you hung up on him, I don't think he'll be calling again." Kurt thinks about the note on his door last night. "He rang me back this afternoon and gave me his number to pass on to you, if you want it."

He doesn't know what makes him do it. "Fine." He stands up suddenly and grabs a pen and the memo pad from the counter, scribbling the number down as Finn reads it out. "This doesn't mean I'll be calling him."

"I know."

There's that long sort of pause that only can sit comfortably between family members.

"I'll see you in a few days, then?"

Kurt nods before he remembers that Finn can't see him. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll see you soon. Give my love to Dad and Carole."

"Will do. Later, bro."

The line goes dead and Kurt puts his phone in the oversized pocket of his bathrobe. He then carefully folds the piece of paper with the phone number on it once, twice, again, and walks to his room, searching his bookshelf for the right tin. He finds the one, one from his mother's high school days that he found when cleaning out the attic in middle school, hideous with a green and orange geometric design. He opens it, looking briefly at the odd assortment of costume jewellery hidden within before jamming the little piece of paper in between a paste brooch and some plastic pearls.

Grabbing his phone again, he sits down on his bed and sends a quick message to Blaine.

_Totally slept in this morning and missed my classes. All your fault, even if La Boheme was awesome. Still liked RENT better. Love you. Xx_


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

"What the hell is that wooden monstrosity?" Blaine can't help but exclaim as Kurt answers the door.

"Nice to see you too, sweetie," pouts the design student, which earns him the kiss he'd been hoping for. "Hmm, that's more like it."

The moment is short-lived.

Blaine pulls away and strides across the room towards the opposite wall. A series of wooden beads are strung together with yarn and suspended from the ceiling by what look like wooden coat-hangers. The thing completely encompasses the better part of the umbrella stand and a lamp table. It looks like a rejected alien from a B Grade science fiction film.

"Really, what is this?" He pokes at a single bead and the whole structure trembles.

"One of Toby's _things_," offers Kurt, by way of explanation, as he pulls on his coat and Blaine finds himself, as always, fascinated by the world of the shared college apartment. "It's a forest or a cave or something symbolic enough to scrape him a passing grade in set design. Yeah, I don't really know either."

He pokes it once more – it trembles again – and turns back to Kurt. "Are you ready to go then? Adrienne and Robert are waiting in the car." Kurt picks up his messenger bag, feels for something in his pocket (Blaine isn't sure what) and nods.

All eagerness and far too energetic for 6:30am, Blaine picks up the suitcase and walks with it out into the hall as the other boy locks up the apartment.

It's two days before Christmas and Ohio is calling them home.

It's still dark outside and although the roads are cleared, much of the pavement is covered in a light dusting of snow. The sun is just starting to rise and the air has that frosty, early morning taste to it. It's also stupidly cold and Blaine is really very glad when he's finally heaved Kurt's heavy suitcase into the back of the SUV and can sit back in the warmth again.

He swings the car door closed heavily.

"… yeah, but I can't really compete," laughs Kurt, in response to something that Blaine had clearly missed.

"Compete? With what?" he buckles his seatbelt and starts rubbing his hands together to try and get some feeling back in his fingers.

"Your massive ego!" Kurt pokes his side playfully ("Hey!") and then grabs at Blaine's hands, warming them with his own.

Adrienne glances at them from the passenger seat and grins. "You boys. How so adorable?"

"Just keep it family friendly back there," intones Robert in an impossibly cultured accent.

The Billy Joel Greatest Hits album starts playing from the speakers and Blaine starts to consider that signing him and his boyfriend up for an eight hour road trip with his older sister and her husband was maybe a really bad idea.

* * *

><p>It's actually really nice, the first couple hours of the trip at least. Despite an excellent selection of music ripe for the sing-a-long, Kurt has located a pair of oversized headphones and drifts between changing songs on his iPhone and sleep. Blaine has a massive psychology textbook open across his knees and is hoping that maybe if he can get his vacation readings done now, he can spend more of the winter break doing things he wants, rather than reading about cognitive processes. But practicality prevails and, in truth, Blaine has never been able to read for very long in cars without feeling nauseous, so he ends up spending the time singing along with Adrienne to a mix CD of the Beatles and gazing at the scenery as it flickers past his window. Frozen fields coated in snow for miles on end, gorgeous little frosted-over farmhouses with smoking chimneys, it's like a holiday special and that's just so <em>cool<em>. At one point, he looks away from the window and over at Kurt, who is looking back at him with a half-sleepy smile.

It's all kinds of wonderful that they can have been together almost two years and Blaine still gets butterflies in his stomach when Kurt looks at him. He can't help but grin widely and take Kurt's hand across the middle seat between them, squeezing lightly.

Kurt squeezes his hand back and mouths "I love you" and _gosh_ it's like the best feeling ever.

* * *

><p>They decide to stop for lunch about half an hour after they drive into Pennsylvania, pulling into the parking lot of a diner that must have been there since the 60s. Blaine feels like he's died and gone to some sort of vintage heaven when he sees the jukebox in the corner and he begs Kurt for a quarter while they wait for their shakes and burgers. He can't help but have a little dance when making his selection.<p>

The place is full of other families making their various journeys home for the holidays and he gets a small smattering of applause as he sashays back to his seat next to Kurt, who is wearing a look of complete mortification.

"Oh my gosh, it's the Gap Attack all over again." But then he laughs and Blaine's chest does that melt-y relieved flip thing. "No wonder Jeremiah didn't want you."

"Jeremiah?" Adrienne asks and Blaine sits there, mortified in turn, as Kurt tells the embarrassing tale with great relish.

* * *

><p>Just as the first couple hours of the trip were the best, the last few became more and more painful.<p>

The closer they got to Columbus, where Finn would be meeting them to collect Kurt before they went their separate ways, the more worried Kurt looked. He kept one hand nervous hand in his pocket, the other hand periodically coming up to his mouth, biting a finger lightly, his eyes a little glazed and full of anxiety.

They stop for coffee around 3pm and Blaine takes the opportunity to sneak a lumpy package into Kurt's suitcase. He manages to cover his tracks, as Kurt comes back from the coffee shop, by saying he was just checking that the Christmas gifts weren't getting too tossed about in the back. It's really clear that Kurt doesn't believe him, but he gets a kiss anyway, "Just for being so hopelessly _you._"

Waiting for Adrienne and Robert who are nice and warm in the shop, Kurt and Blaine stand there in the cold, each with an arm loosely around the other, sipping at their coffees.

"Are you excited to be going home?" Blaine decides to break the silence. He's pretty sure, by the snuggling closer that prefaces Kurt's answer, that this is the root of the problem.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm excited to see Dad and Carole. And Finn. And Rachel and Mercedes are really hard to be away from. But everyone… they're going to be different, Blaine. I hear it every time I talk to them; I couldn't wait to leave Lima, but the world's moving on without me."

"Did you really expect things to stay the same?" Blaine rubs his side comfortingly. "I mean, you're changing too, aren't you?"

"Am I?" Kurt pulls away a little, surprised. "I feel like the same me."

"Yeah, and all our friends probably feel like the same themselves too." Blaine sighs and tries to think how better to express himself. "Like, when you left McKinley High and came to Dalton and you blossomed into this amazingly confident young man. Then when you went back to McKinley and you were able to deal with all the crap that would have had you in tears a few months earlier. College is like, the next step. We all change a little bit each step of the journey."

Kurt takes a deep breath and hugs him tight again. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Know exactly what I need to hear. It's like some amazing Blaine Anderson sixth sense."

Blaine, clearly the best boyfriend ever, finishes his coffee in silence as he holds Kurt close, resting his head against Kurt's shoulder.

* * *

><p>It physically hurts to say goodbye in Columbus.<p>

Finn meets them at a gas station off the highway; he's driving an old Chevy that Blaine remembers him working on last summer. Kurt seems less than impressed, probably expecting to be picked up in the Navigator he'd left behind in Lima.

While Finn moves Kurt's suitcase into his car and engages in some very uncomfortable small talk with Adrienne and Robert, Blaine takes Kurt aside.

This is so stupid, it's less than a week they're going to be apart, but it reminds Blaine so much of those first few weeks after Kurt moved back to McKinley, when they lived for text messages between classes and hushed calls after bedtime. It was a time of restless nights, longing for more than he even knew he needed. It was so_ difficult_. Blaine doesn't want, in any way, to relive the life of his 16-going-on-17-year-old self.

He brings a hand up to Kurt's face and brushes a stray bit of hair back behind his ear. Kurt wraps his hands around Blaine's waist and pulls him closer, bringing their hips flush against one another.

"I'll miss you."

"I know." Kurt looks like he's going to cry.

Blaine can't have that. He surges forward and closes that small gap between them. It's eerily similar to their first kiss, managing to lack in finesse and yet be nothing less than amazing. It's enough to leave them both breathless.

Finn wolf-whistles from a few yards away. Yeah, it's just like being 16 again.

Welcome back to Ohio.


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

He didn't know what he'd been expecting, really, seeing his step brother for the first time in months, but Kurt hadn't thought things would be so… strained. Was that even the word? Because it wasn't like it was actually uncomfortable. It was almost so normal, in fact, that Kurt had this weird déjà vu moment when he wondered if he's ever left Ohio in the first place.

Kurt had blown a final kiss goodbye to Blaine as they pulled away from the gas station and for the past seventeen minutes had been resisting the urge to text him. It seemed too… needy? Clingy? Was it wrong _not _to text? Ugh, nothing was right about this.

The radio is tuned to some terrible mix of hip hop and classic rock, like some programmer had hacked into Mr Schuster's iPod and broadcast it for the tragics of the world to hear. Finn is humming along and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, he seems in no rush to strike up a conversation beyond their "how's it going?" and "great to see you again" in the parking lot. In considering it, Kurt decides that this is probably for the best, because he's not sure how long it would be before they start talking about Karofsky, and he's just not ready for that.

In the end, it's the opening chords of 'Don't Stop Believing' sounding tinny from the radio that sends them both into fits of laughter and the tension - if there had been any - is broken. They belt the song out like they had back in sophomore year, both dancing as much as is possible when confined to car seats and, in Finn's case, keeping an eye on the traffic around them.

As the music fades away and is replaced with the inane ramblings of the station hosts, Finn turns the volume right down.

"D'you ever think about how, like if it wasn't for that song, I'd have never joined Glee club and we'd have never been brothers. Life's kinda cool like that, isn't it?"

"I would have found my ways," Kurt laughs and he can't help but feel that Finn missed a couple steps in the plan there. "Oh, I was such an embarrassment around you."

"Nah, it was cool in the end. I mean awkward at the time, but…" Finn grins at him. "And you and Blaine. Looks like you're close as ever."

"Closer," Kurt says, without even thinking. It's nothing but the truth.

"You guys are really sweet together. I wish I had something that special."

"So, you and Quinn?" Kurt's intrigued.

Finn shakes his head. "She's not so happy with dating a junior mechanic, it doesn't impress the other girls in her Real Estate course at Rhodes State."

"And?"

"I don't know, it's like after junior prom, she didn't really _need_ me and I was like, this convenient… person. And there's Rachel."

It's now, even though they're still an hour away from the house, Kurt feels really at home. Seriously, if the Finn-Quinn-Rachel triangle is ever resolved, he's pretty sure the universe will implode or something. Listening to Finn rattle on about Rachel's fortnightly trips back from New York, Kurt realises how much he'd really missed all of this and suddenly, he doesn't even mind if people have changed a bit or moved on, because they're still his friends and they're always going to be that insane group who'd turned everything into a major drama and one year even placed at Nationals.

"I can't wait to see everyone," he cuts across Finn's clumsy description of Rachel's new perfume which, he's pretty sure just involved the phrase 'like amazing flowers of love'.

"Everyone?" Finn asks, in a couched sort of tone, and Kurt knows what's coming next. Except it doesn't, because they fall into that same silence they'd shared before Mr Schu Radio came to the rescue.

Kurt heaves a heavy sigh, buying a little more time as he thinks about what to say. His fingers tighten around the phone number which he'd taken from the tin in his room and hidden deep in his pocket.

"What's the deal with Karofsky now?"

"Well," Finn tilts his head at an odd angle, "he didn't so much come out, as come back and was just… you've got to see this, bro. It's not him. I don't know, but he seems pretty cool now. He came around to the garage this morning, helped me with an engine I was working on."

"Why?"

"I think he's looking for friends. He's not really got anyone left around here. You know, his parents home-schooled him for a couple months after he got expelled?" Kurt shook his head. "Neither did I. Like, they were all super-supportive and wanted to get him help, but Azimio and the others didn't want anything to do with him after all that."

"And did he? Get help, I mean?"

"I don't know. He didn't say, but he does seem a lot more… safe… now." Finn looks a little confused, it's his thinking face.

"Do you think I should talk to him, then?" Kurt's voice wavers a little.

"It's up to you, dude." Finn reaches a hand over and claps it on Kurt's shoulder, comfortingly. "If it were me, I know I'd be scared shitless to even talk to him on the phone, and seriously _my bad_for giving out your number, that was a really jerky thing to do. But you're all kinds of strong." He brings his hand back to the wheel. "I think he needs a friend like that."

Kurt nods.

"Puck and I are planning to meet him up for pizza and a couple rounds of Call of Duty after Christmas, if you're game. Your call."

The ball is firmly in his court now. Sports had never been Kurt's strong suit.

* * *

><p>It's really good seeing his Dad and Carole again, but even the excitement of being home can't do anything to counteract just how tired Kurt is. It's been almost twelve hours since he left Washington and he feels completely drained.<p>

He tries sitting in the living room with them all for a little while, catching up on the family news, but it's not long before he's excusing himself in favour of a warm, soft bed. Of course, it's once he reached said bed that suddenly, he doesn't really like the idea of it at all. Back in his apartment, he's only got a twin-size; that's all that can possibly fit with another person sharing the room, and that's fine, it's enough for him. A queen-sized bed is what he's come to relate to being over at Blaine's place, the luxury of having that little extra space to share with someone. Here, his big bed just looks empty.

Kurt tries very hard to not think too hard about this as he opens his suitcase, meaning to fish out a pair of pyjamas – the rest of it can wait til the morning.

There is a package in his suitcase, one he certainly didn't put in there, not at all brightly wrapped like any of the gifts Blaine had given him for Christmas, which were sitting in the oversized Macy's bag just waiting to be opened. This package is an old paper bag, the type with rope handles, folded in half. It's kind of squishy and there's a note on the outside, an envelope with _Open Me! _written in Blaine's messy scrawl. He does.

_Just in case you miss me even half as much as I miss you, a little memory of our real home together. x_

Kurt feels his heart break a little more as he opens the bag and Blaine's Georgetown hoodie falls out. He picks it up and holds it to his face, pressing it close and breathing in the scent of his boyfriend, the scent that he associates with _love_. He then puts it down quickly, because he's pretty sure if he doesn't get ready for bed, he's going to be in tears pretty shortly.

That's what tiredness does, he tells himself, but he's really just trying to ignore that feeling of longing that's building up in his chest.

He gets out of his clothes and into his pyjamas, flicking the light switch off as he goes, leaving the lamp on. He's too tired to do anything more, even though he knows he'll regret in the morning not at least washing his face. As he climbs into bed, he pulls the hoodie over his head. It's a good fit, which is probably more because it practically swims on Blaine, in that fashionable undergraduate way, than by any sort of design. But fit aside, it feels right. Even if it feels like lonely does.

Kurt thinks vaguely of the first time he and Blaine shared a bed, after Rachel's party, when he'd been so equally excited about having the boy he liked _in his bed_ and frightened that he would accidently ravish Blaine in his sleep, that he'd stayed awake half the night and when he'd finally got to sleep, he woke up soon afterwards, overheated from having an extra body there. It had taken him literally weeks of sharing a bed with Blaine after they got to together to get used to having someone else there. It was almost funny now, trying to get used to the opposite.

He's almost asleep when his phone buzzes on the nightstand. _Sweet dreams._

He reaches out a hand and replies simply _xx_.

Five days until they'll see each other again, it's not so bad.


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Christmas in the Anderson household has had a formula as far back as Blaine can remember. Innately traditional and more than a little Catholic, it makes Blaine deeply uncomfortable now but he goes through the motions anyway, because it's important to his family and what would Christmas be without family.

It starts on the fourth Sunday before Christmas. They get the Advent wreath blessed at mass that morning, they set up the Christmas tree after lunch, they light the first purple advent candle and sing a couple of carols, Blaine's mother playing along on the piano.

In the first week of December, Mrs Anderson makes the Christmas cake, soaks it in rum, following her grandmother's recipe to the letter, and stores it away.

Church choir rehearsals start to take up most of the family's spare time; Mrs Anderson is a music teacher and lends her services each year. When Blaine was seven, he got the solo in _Once in Royal David's City_, which was really very exciting, even if it was his mama who had given it him. He'd been such a hit that he'd sung something every year after that, even after he'd long since stopped believing in the message.

Gifts, if they haven't been bought months in advance, are acquired in the final fortnight before Christmas and those which aren't secret are wrapped in a family effort, sitting on the rug in front of an old movie. Last year, they'd watched the Blues Brothers.

In fact, Blaine is genuinely disappointed that, in arriving on the 23rd of December, he's missing so many of the traditions this year. He almost can't imagine his parents doing this on their own, it was strange enough when Adrienne had moved out, back when Blaine was in middle school.

Still, he does beg a little leave on the morning of Christmas Eve to go with Jeff, Nick and Thad to collect Wes from the airport. It's a short reprieve from the strong scent of cinnamon that fills the house, the fighting between his mother and sister and watching old war movies with his father and brother-in-law.

It's really good to see the guys again, even if Jeff and Nick aren't talking to each other in the back seat and Thad is bitching about some girl, and sometimes Blaine wonders how he managed to hang onto such an odd group of friends even after he transferred away from Dalton. He likes to think it's because he was their ringleader and that they are otherwise lost without him, but he knows it's probably more likely that they just appreciate his company. Which is cool, because who really needs to be at the centre of attention all the time?

(Blaine knows that if Kurt could hear his internal monologue right now, there would be some poorly hidden sniggering.)

The time with the guys is short-lived though. Blaine has to get home, put on his best suit and drag himself off to the church – because choir is not a tradition he's going to miss. They rehearse for a couple hours and the other choristers head off home to grab some dinner before the evening service. Blaine and his mother stay behind to finish setting up the sound systems and eat a sandwich each in lieu of a better meal.

The Christmas mass isn't as bad as Blaine had thought it would be – he stands there and crosses himself at the right moments and says the prayers and responses, he sings the hymns and enjoys the music, he leads the congregation in the Alleluia and sings a solo during Eucharist. He takes the sacrament himself, more so out of politeness than anything, and he feels a pang of guilt at what Kurt would think of him, a singing hypocrite.

After the service, Blaine stands uncomfortably around with his parents as he has his news told for him.

"So Georgetown, Blaine?"

"Yes, he's taking psychology," beams Mr Anderson.

"Very well done, we're all so proud up here."

"Hope you don't meet a nice girl out there and never come home."

"Oh, I shouldn't think so," Blaine grins at the old women with one of his most dapper, Dalton-days smiles. There's a burst of tense laughter from his father, his mother just smiles back.

Things are at least going better than they could, he supposes.

They get home late but there's always time to finally cut that Christmas cake that's been begging to be eaten since it was baked, time for a sneaky glass of champagne and a round of heartfelt carols. Blaine is pressed up on the sofa, squashed between his mama and his sister, his dad is smiling and even Robert is singing. It's traditional, it's old fashioned, it's home.

The peace doesn't last long.

Blaine wakes up on Christmas morning to his mother and sister fighting in the kitchen again. He can hear words like _London_ and _schooling_ and _responsibilities _been tossed around. Robert is a political journalist and Blaine's been hearing about nothing except this correspondent's position for weeks now and how very much Adrienne wants to go. As sad as it would be for his sister to leave the country, and inconvenient for Blaine as well, he really hopes that it comes together for them.

Actually, for once it's kind of nice to not be in the firing line too. At least while Adrienne's the bad child, Blaine can get away with anything (read: being himself, not planning to meet a nice girl to settle down with, still taking a theatre class, being in a relationship with another buy).

His bedroom is directly above the kitchen, so he makes sure to make as much noise as possible as he gets out of bed, and that certainly stops the yelling for the moment. By the time he's gotten dressed – as dressed as sweatpants and a hoodie can be – and made his way into the dining room, there's nothing but smiling faces and a cooked breakfast to greet him.

Presents are unwrapped and photographs taken. As the family once again retreats to familiar haunts in front of the stove or the television for the time being, Blaine pulls on his coat, hat and gloves, meaning to walk to the park and back.

It's cold outside but it hasn't snowed since last week, so what's left is mostly slush in the shades of the houses. Blaine hops down each of the cement stepping downs on the front lawn, landing at the end, both feet on the sidewalk, just like he had when he was small. He spins around once then, turning to his left, he starts down the street.

Three steps further, he calls Kurt's number. Kurt picks up on the first ring.

"Hey, sweetheart, I was just about to call you," the voice on the other end is slightly breathy, that barely awake sort of tone.

"Beat you to it," Blaine can't help but grin widely, even though Kurt can't see. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas to you, too."

He can hear the unmistakable rustle of bedcovers. "Are you still in bed?"

"Maaaybe," coos Kurt. "Just because you're the sort of guy who needs to race downstairs and open all the presents before dawn, doesn't mean we all are."

"It's almost 10am, Kurt."

"I know. But the longer I stay in bed, the longer I can sniff your hoodie and pretend you're here with me without getting weird looks from my family." Blaine's heart aches at the earnestness in Kurt's voice.

"I miss you."

"I miss you, too."

He has reached the park now. It's not far from his house and has become decidedly unused as the demographic of the area shifted; there are no children in this borough now, not really. He takes a seat on a frosty swing and rocks slowly forwards and back, listening to the squeak of the chains.

"I saw some of the Dalton guys yesterday." Blaine tries to keep the conversation going, not wanting to linger on their separation. "We picked up Wes from the airport and deposited him at his grandparents'."

"Oh, and how is our gavel-wielding friend?" Kurt chuckles. There is the creak of a bed being vacated and floorboards being tread.

"_Sans_ gavel. Top of his classes, naturally. He'll be a great judge, you know it." They both laugh.

Blaine goes on to tell Kurt about Thad's cousin and all the issues she's been causing for him at college. He recounts the stony glares between Nick and Jeff in the backseat through the whole trip.

"… and it's not that they're not talking to each other _exactly_, Kurt, but Nick's got a new boyfriend and Jeff's just pissed off about it."

"But I thought Jeff was -"

"Straight? Yes, for the most part, but possessive."

"For the most part?" Kurt practically squeals. "Blaine, this is new information. What do you know that I don't?"

"Most everything." Blaine states blandly, stopping the swing, and he can practically hear the glare in Kurt's silence. "Actually, nothing. But the _chemistry,_ Kurt! Those boys need to get their act together, just for my vindication. I had a bet with David back when we were fourteen, that Nick and Jeff would be the first Warbler hook-up of our class. In the end, you and I took the honors, so I'm not going to really complain... but it was worth a year's subscription to Vogue."

"You wonderful idiot," Kurt mutters from the other end of the line.

"_Your _wonderful idiot," Blaine corrects. He gets a laugh in return.

"I should get downstairs to my family, wonderful idiot. I love you and I'll call you soon."

"I love you, too."

Kurt hangs up first and Blaine just sits there for a moment, listening to the silence.


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Nervous doesn't even _begin_ to describe what Kurt is feeling as he and Finn pull up outside Artie's house. It's two days after Christmas and the old New Directions crowd, the guys at least, are meeting up for a day of video games and junk food. But it's not the old crowd, exactly, and that's kind of what Kurt's dreading the most.

Somehow, in the topsy-turvy of the Christmas season, Karofsky has been invited as one of them.

And really, Kurt didn't have to come. He could have stayed at home and chatted to Blaine on Skype, or he could have gone to the cinema with Mercedes, or watched a season of Skins on DVD, but he's filled with a horribly morbid sense of curiosity – what's so very different about Karofsky that's got him being treated as one of the group?

There are a number of cars outside the house and Kurt suspects that he and Finn are the last to arrive, which pretty much figures in the regular status quo. Sure enough, as they walk around to the back entrance of the house, to Artie's gaming room, the sounds of science fiction laser shots and overenthusiasm reach their ears.

Finn walks in first and Kurt barely makes it through the door before he pauses to observe the tableau in front of him. All arranged on the massive L-shaped sofa, Puck and Sam are armed with controllers and are attempting to blast the un-life out of the zombies on screen, Mike is eating what looks like the entire bowl of popcorn being offered to him and Artie is attempting to untangle a mess of cables.

It takes Kurt a moment to realise that they guy offering Mike the popcorn is, in fact, Karofsky.

He's a little slimmer than he was, though not by much, and his hair is a little longer. He's wearing a fraternity sweater - Kurt can just see the phi from his side of the sofa. He's laughing at the way Mike's filling his face with food, genuinely laughing. And his eyes… Kurt's not sure how someone could ever be described as such… but it's like they've exchanged hurtful for kind.

Even so, Kurt feels almost physically sick by being in the same room as him and he instinctively crosses his arms over his chest as he tries not to shake. Maybe he wasn't ready for this, maybe this was a bad idea, what if he hasn't changed, what if it's all some mad scheme to get back at him, what if…

"Hey everyone!" Finn announces their presence, clapping a hand on Kurt's shoulder, and Kurt nearly jumps out of his skin in fright. His eyes dart back to Karofsky, who looks straight at him and shyly smiles.

Kurt turns on his heel and practically runs back outside. He only gets as far as the decrepit gazebo in Artie's yard before he stops, breathing heavily, trying very hard not to vomit on the dead rose bushes.

_Smooth, Hummel_, he thinks to himself.

"Hey!" He starts and turns, but it's only Puck. "You okay, dude?"

"I… yeah, I think so." Kurt sinks down to the gazebo step. "Sorry, that was… really stupid of me. I shouldn't have… come over. I can't do this." He knows he's being hysterical, but he can't stop.

"Calm down, diva boy. It's cool." Puck kicks at a stone near his foot. "We can ask Dave to leave, if you wa-"

"No," Kurt cuts in. He draws a long, shallow breath and tries to stop the trembling. "That would be unfair to him, he was invited."

"And he can be uninvited if it's going to affect one of our guys like that." Puck says, matter-of-factly.

Kurt picks at the weave of his scarf, conscious of the weight around his neck. His breathing is starting to slow down again now and the urge to vomit has gone. "Has he really changed?"

"He was actually really looking forward to seeing you," Puck smirks. "Don't let him know I told you this, but he has a fucking _gerbera_ to give to you. After that bunch of roses he gave to Santana, I'd feel scammed with just one flower."

Kurt can't help but give a little chuckle.

"So, you want to come back inside then?"

"Okay." He sighs heavily and Puck helps him back to his feet.

As they draw closer to the house, they see Karofsky coming back out through the door, struggling to get his coat on as he goes. He pauses as Kurt and Puck stop in front of him, his expression full of apology.

"I'm so sorry. This isn't fair on you, Kurt. I'll just go." He won't look either of them in the eyes as he finishes shrugging his coat on and makes to move. The blue gerbera in his left hand draws Kurt's attention and Karofsky notices, holding it out to him. "This was for you. A peace offering…" he finishes lamely, like he meant to say more. He doesn't sound hurt or angry, but scared, just like he on the phone almost two weeks ago.

Kurt takes the flower, mostly out of an automatic need to do something, and Karofsky turns away, shoving both hands in his pockets.

"Wait." Karofsky turns back, his face brightened a little. Kurt can hardly believe his own voice, but here he is, beckoning his erstwhile bully back as he slowly twirls the long stem of the flower like a baton. "Do you want to talk about it?"

* * *

><p>It's too loud in the back room with the other guys and really too cold to sit outside, so that's how Kurt finds himself sitting at Artie's kitchen table with the guy who'd threatened to kill him when they were sixteen. Clearly, times had changed.<p>

What shocked Kurt most about their conversation thus far, which really has only included the niceties of asking after family and complaining about college workloads, is just how _polite_ Karofsky is. He's also quieter, so much more restrained than he had been at school, but something still in the way he holds himself and in his mannerisms reassures Kurt that he's not been replaced by some brainwashed clone. This is the Karofsky who performed at the football match that time, a Karofsky who knows he can do more than he tries to but doesn't know how.

"I don't know how you did it." Karofsky says suddenly. "I mean, we were horrible towards you. _I _treated you like crap, and you still came to school every day and just dealt with it."

"I won't pretend it wasn't difficult," Kurt tries to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "It nearly killed me. You…" _nearly did_. "I… I was glad I left when I did."

"You know I never would h-" Karofsky starts, reaching a hand out towards Kurt, who flinches away.

"Never what would have what? Killed me?" Kurt hisses, crossing his arms. "No, maybe not, but you had me scared enough. Wasn't that the point? Scare me into submission? Hide anything _abnormal_ at the school and camouflage yourself in the process?"

"Kurt." Karofsky reaches out again, this time placing his hand on Kurt's elbow. "I am so very sorry for what I put you through."

Kurt doesn't flinch away this time, just turns his head to the side in a sign of recognition but not reaction, waiting for more.

"And you know what, I'm going to be sorry for it my whole life. Because I was a jerk towards you when I should have tried to be your friend. Because I didn't accept the help you and your boyfriend offered me from the start. Because I screwed up what should have been some of the best years of your life. I can't forgive myself for that and I don't expect you to either."

It's the sincerity in his voice that gets to Kurt in the end. He moves his own hand over Karofsky's and gives it a light squeeze.

"Thank you." It's not forgiveness but it's what they both need right now.

After a long moment, Karofsky pulls his hand back to his side of the table.

"So, Karofsky." says Kurt, his whole body buzzing, trying to process this shift from enemy to… _friend_? "You're gay, then?"

"Yeah," he laughs, throwing his hands up in the air. "Who'd have thought! Coming out's been a bitch, though."

Kurt nods towards the frat house sweater. "Are your brothers not so keen on a gay guy in the house?"

"Nah, they're not the problem. I'm a football scholarship, you know I'm nowhere near smart enough to get into college otherwise, and this lot only really care that I'm bringing home trophies. I get some crap for it but mostly they're too scared of me. I'm not a small guy." He grins widely. "It helps that I went to college and didn't have to come out, exactly. Like, I went as a new me, and I could be out from day one. So I was. It was nice."

"So it's the guys back here? And from your other school?"

Karofsky nods. "And my parents, but they're more worried about the extended family knowing than anything. Suppose they'll find out some day." He shrugs. "I'm not worried."

"It sounds like you're on track after all." Kurt rests his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers and resting his chin on his tilted hands. "So… what about boyfriends?"

He could almost squeal when Karofsky goes bright red – this is much too interesting for Kurt's own good. He can't wait to get home and tell Blaine everything.

"Anyone I know? Are they any good?"

"None of your business, Hummel."

He had meant it as a playful joke, knowing full well that the likelihood of him knowing anyone at whatever college Karofsky is attending in California is about a million to one and not really wanting to know any details _at all_, but the look on Karofsky's face makes Kurt think that this might actually be fun. But they're not _good_ yet, and they might never be good. He's not sure that this can be a real friendship, not like he has with the other guys, or with Mercedes or Rachel, but it seems like something Karofsky might need. Hell, it might even be something Kurt needs – the only other gay men he talks to are his boyfriend, his roommate and the guy who shares his textiles desk.

A loud bang comes from the next room and the overenthusiastic calls of the other guys reach them with an ear-splitting volume once again. Kurt suspects that the door from the games room to the hallway, if it hasn't been knocked from its hinges, will no longer be in the condition it had been twenties minutes ago.

"Come on Karofsky," he says, standing up from the table in one enthusiastic movement which his boyfriend would have been proud of, "I think you've got some zombies to shoot at."

"It's Dave. Call me Dave." The response is almost shy.

"Dave it is, then." Kurt smiles at him.

Yes, he really can't wait to tell Blaine.


	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

For Blaine, the drive between Westerville and Lima has always seemed disproportionate in time and distance, completely reliant on the company he's travelling with.

Driving with Kurt, back when they were both at Dalton and would spend the weekend traipsing between houses, had seen the time fly past in song and sentiment. Going with the other Warblers to serenade Kurt back at McKinley had been nerve-wreaking and lengthy. Being driven by his parents each way on the weekends, so he could stay at his Grandmother's in Lima and attend McKinley himself, had been hard in the leaving and easy in the coming back.

And now, driving on his own to see his boyfriend again after almost a week apart, it's just exciting.

Blaine leaves home after breakfast, kissing his mother on the cheek as she passes over the box of Christmas cake she'd saved for the Hudson-Hummels. He's practically bouncing off the walls with anticipation of seeing Kurt again and his parents seem almost relieved to get him out of the house.

He can't help it if he's completely in love and stupid with it.

A final glance in the hall mirror, as he heaves his overnight bag over his shoulder, and he's ready to go. He takes his mother's car keys from the little glass bowl on the side table and reassures his father that he'll look after the Audi and, _yes_, it will most certainly still be in one piece when he and Kurt return on New Year's Day.

Once he's on the open road, he pumps up the volume on his awesome driving playlist and sings at the top of his lungs. It's liberating and exhilarating and he's another mile closer to Kurt's door.

It's just coming up to 10am when he arrives and he's unsurprised when Carole answers the door in her dressing gown - Kurt's family keep very different hours to the Andersons. Blaine is ushered inside and offered coffee. He declines, shifting from one foot to the other, his eyes drifting to the staircase.

"Go on, he'll be glad to see you." Carole smiles at him.

Blaine takes the stairs three at a time. He opens the door to Kurt's room ever-so-slowly, making as little sound as possible as he tiptoes in.

Kurt is fast asleep, his cheeks flushed slightly in the heated room, comforter pulled half-way up his body, one arm clasping it in place, the other firmly around a pillow, which is clutched close to his chest. He is utterly beautiful and Blaine feels himself falling in love all over again. He does every time he sees Kurt.

Placing his bag by the bookshelf and toeing his shoes off silently, Blaine moves towards the bed. Kneeling on the edge, his reasonably small frame still causes the mattress to dip, and Kurt's eyes snap open.

He's not entirely sure how it happens, but Blaine finds himself on his back a moment later, pressed into the covers by a boyfriend kissing him with the same pent-up enthusiasm as Blaine's body has been humming with the entire drive. He's not sure he's ever seen Kurt so energetic so soon after awakening, but he's not about to complain either.

* * *

><p>A little later, they just lie there together, catching their breath. Kurt is curled up against Blaine, who is lying on his back, spread out, gazing at the ceiling. Their hands are clasped together loosely, which Blaine feels is more intimate than anything else they've done this morning. His world is nothing less than perfect.<p>

Kurt breaks the silence, stroking Blaine's hair that has become really much messier than it had been when he arrived.

"You'll never guess who I saw yesterday." His voice is almost teasing, his breath hot against Blaine's neck.

"Who?"

"_Dave Karofsky_."

Blaine has no idea why Kurt sounds like he's got the juiciest piece of gossip to share, why he's got that cat-got-the-cream smile on.

"What?" He sits up, pulling the sheets around his naked waist and clasping Kurt's hands. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

Kurt twists his hands out of Blaine's grip and looks a little hurt, which just causes Blaine to feel even more confused.

"I'm _fine_. He wouldn't hurt a fly. Not now, I don't think," Kurt says mildly, pulling on a sweatshirt. "He was at the video games thing Artie hosted. It was fun."

"Why…?" Blaine doesn't even know what he should be asking. Why are they having this conversation, for starters?

"He needed someone to talk to," Kurt's standing up now, locating underwear and jeans. "I mean, I certainly didn't want to talk to him when he called me back in DC -"

"He called you in DC?" Blaine nearly shouts, which earns him a look.

"- but Finn was really insistent." Kurt finishes, as if Blaine hadn't spoken. "And don't get me wrong, sweetie, I completely freaked out when I saw him." He finishes dressing and moves back to the bed, crawling next to Blaine again and drawing him close. "He needs someone to talk to and he's genuinely sorry for what he's done, so why shouldn't I spend half an hour chatting with him? You don't hate me, do you?"

Blaine doesn't know how to feel, really, so he just hugs him back for a moment. He's just trying to process the information.

"If… if you hadn't have seen him yesterday… were you even planning to tell me that he called you?"

"Probably, eventually. I was scared, Blaine."

"So you should have been! What if he hasn't changed? What if it's some elaborate plot to get you back for his expulsion? What if it's like some teenage horror film and he's just waiting for you to let down your guard." He's honestly worried for Kurt, but Kurt doesn't seem to share this concern.

"I don't think so. He bought me a flower, you know. Quite sweet, really." Kurt smiles and points out a blue gerbera daisy in a vase on his dresser.

Blaine's pretty sure this is something close to rage that he's feeling. It might even be jealousy.

He pulls away, not too quickly, and excuses himself to the bathroom.


	9. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Kurt doesn't see Karofsky again before he and Blaine leave Ohio.

It's not for lack of trying, either, but Blaine's been in one of his _moods_ since Kurt told him about the games afternoon.

He's actually kind of excited at first, when Mercedes messages him. It's _i hear there's some major gossip - spill,_ which arrives soon after Blaine ran off into the bathroom after their fight. He finds, however, that he's also a little pissed off, because how did she know? He doesn't actually have any proof that Blaine told her first, though, and maybe it would be irrational to blame him when any of the others at the get-together could have let her know. He doesn't reply, at first trying to formulate a good response that covers everything, but mostly because he and Blaine get roped into cooking lunch with Carole.

The second message arrives later, just as it seems like he and Blaine might be ignoring the morning's fight after all as they cuddle on the sofa and re-watch _Moulin Rouge _for what must be the fiftieth time. This message only confirms Kurt's suspicions: _b says you wanted to see dk again. bad idea. call me._

He raises an eyebrow at Blaine and shows him the message. Blaine shrugs.

"I thought it was important that she knew and you're not the best at sharing new information at the moment." His voice isn't cold exactly, nor sharp, but it cuts Kurt in its simplicity.

"Do _you_ think it's a good idea?"

"No, I don't." Blaine's voice is sharp now. He unwraps his arms from around Kurt and moves a little further to his own side of the sofa. "I don't want you to see him."

What irritates Kurt the most about this is how final Blaine sounds about it.

"And if I went anyway?" He's annoyed with himself for just how petulant he sounds, but it's a valid question.

Blaine sighs and stands up from the sofa, grabbing the DVD remote and pausing right in the middle of the Like a Virgin sequence. Kurt would have laughed at the distorted faces of the paused characters if he wasn't so busy being upset.

"I'd want to be there, to keep an eye on you. To keep an eye on _him_." Blaine heaves an exasperated sigh and paces to one side of the room, then back again, before resting in the arm chair on the opposite side of the coffee table. "I always want to be there to make sure nothing bad happens to you. Karofsky, he's something bad."

"But-" Kurt begins.

"I know you said he's different, that he apologised. Kurt, no matter how many times he apologises, even if you forgive him over and over again, it's never going to change what he put you through." Blaine rakes his hand distractedly through his hair. "I saw the mess you were in before you came to Dalton, I was one of the people helping you pick up the pieces. How do you think it makes me feel to see this guy just waltz back into your life and for you to let him so easily?"

Kurt looks away, biting his lip, a nervous habit he's picked up along the way. Blaine stands up again, moving to kneel down next to him, one hand placed gently on Kurt's knee, the other coaxing Kurt's face down and back in his direction.

"I love you so much. It makes me actually ache to think of you in that dark place again." His eyes are earnest, full of passion. Kurt aches in turn. "I want you to promise me that if you're going to keep talking to Karofsky, you'll let me know what's going on and you stop everything immediately if he makes you uncomfortable."

Kurt leans down and places a slow, gentle kiss on Blaine's open lips.

"I promise."

Though he's pretty sure it's not going to be a problem.

And it's not that he doesn't understand Blaine's reservations about Karofsky; he's honestly touched by how concerned his boyfriend is about this friendship, but somewhere in the recesses of Kurt's mind, he just can't consolidate the concepts of Karofsky, the boy who bullied him and made his life a kind of hell, and Dave, the gay college footballer who needs friends and advice.

Kurt knows himself to be quite a callous person, in fact he prides himself to a degree on his blunt and sarcastic temperament, but he knows that it would be really dreadful to hold someone to an identity that was no longer _them_. In his mind, treating Karofsky like he had never changed would be like if the New Directions kids had happily accepted Kurt's butch act in that week in sophomore year without comment – just plain wrong.

_Maybe if Blaine just saw Dave, things would be_… he scraps the idea before it's even fully formed. There is no way that Blaine and Dave being in the same room at the same time would end well, which means that he won't be seeing Dave any time soon.

So he does what grown-ups are meant to do in loving and committed long-term relationships, he makes the compromise.

* * *

><p>The cold that had begun to set into the District in December is completely unshakable by the time Kurt and Blaine get back in early January. There isn't time to notice, though, because classes are back and assignments are due and essays have to be written.<p>

Kurt gets into a habit of messaging Dave every other day, usually with just a random thought, sometimes a suggested song to listen to, or a film to watch. Sometimes he gets replies, sometimes not. Dave messages on the other days, usually with a complaint about his training schedule or the food he's getting. And, in accordance with his promise to Blaine, Kurt dutifully recounts the conversations each time they see each other.

It's the first Friday of February when Dave's message breaks the pattern. A couple of times during the previous month, he'd mentioned – with no detail – a guy he was interested in. Kurt, naturally, was fascinated and his questions, of what he thought were of a broad enough scope, went unanswered. Today, however, was the exception.

_N wants 2 take me 2 c a live jazz gig music school. what do i wear? shld i get him flowers or ?_

Kurt's in a lecture on client relations and his bored out of his mind, so he taps out a response.

_Jeans, button down shirt, no sneakers, coat if you need one. Kinda sexy but subdued. Does he like flowers? Does he like you? _

A few minutes later, another reply.

_i can do that. dont know about flowers. he likes singing and jazz. from ohio too, met during rush. he takes me to dinner sometimes._

Kurt grins.

_Sounds like you've got a (potential?) boyfriend. Don't do anything I wouldn't do. ;) Get a single red rose. Classic, elegant, but not too subtle._

He goes back to taking notes about the clients from hell, wondering just how the people in the scenario being discussed can have such terrible, terrible taste in soft furnishings.

_thanks. owe you one. :)_

The lecture ends not a moment too soon. As Kurt leaves the lecture theatre, Marcus-the-roommate in tow, his iPhone buzzes again, it's Blaine this time.

_Adrienne and Robert are at a gala something in Baltimore tonight. Human Bio lab has been cancelled. How about you, me, some wine from the cellar we're not meant to know about? xx_

Which is, like, the best news Kurt's had all week.

_Sounds amazing. Be there by 4. Will have to leave early tomorrow, so you know - filming with the guys._

He ignores Marcus's lewd comments as they walk the three blocks back to the apartment, trying to piece together the very best outfit to end up strewn across the old Persian rug in Blaine's bedroom. When they get home, Marcus sets about preparing on some rosehip and safflower tea blend he's been dying to try while Kurt finds himself standing in front of his wardrobe at somewhat of a loss for what to wear, because some of his best outfits are in the laundry today. Marcus is no help at all, suggesting that Kurt go over in a trench coat and nothing else.

Kurt eventually settles on two choices. He sends a quick message to Dave before he gets into the shower.

_Hot date with Blaine. Should I go dark purple skinny jeans w/black cashmire sweater or grey trousers with chunky white cardigan?_

There's no response by the time he gets out of the shower, or fixed his hair, or finished his tea concoction, so he flips a coin and ends up with the jeans.

Kurt shoves a few overnight essentials into a tote bag, tossing his keys and iPhone in as well, and heads out the door.

* * *

><p>Blaine doesn't know how Kurt does it, but he really makes even the simplest outfits look spectacular.<p>

Maybe it's not actually the outfit and it's really just because Blaine's giddy with the anticipation of having the house to themselves and being able to make all the noise they want without confronting a very embarrassed older sister and brother-in-law over breakfast the next morning.

And whoever had been stupid enough to suggest once that Kurt couldn't do a sexy face – like really, who does that? – was so very, very wrong, because the moment he raises his eyebrow like that, places his hand on his hip in a frustrated _are you letting me in or what_ way, Blaine's just about ready to drag him inside and, more specifically, into his bed.

Somehow, the more sensible side of Blaine manages to stay in control for long enough to get Kurt in out of the cold and take his coat. Kurt's sensible side, not so much, and Blaine finds himself, hands full of woollen coat, pushed against the closed door and kissed thoroughly. He drops the coat.

The kisses sets off that amazing push-pull chemistry between them that Blaine could only have ever imagined being real. They both soon forget about the possibility of dinner, or of drinks, or of there being a world which exists outside of that bedroom.

Of course, Blaine is disappointed when he wakes up the next morning to find that Kurt's left already for the film project shoot, that side of the bed cold. He vaguely recalls a kiss goodbye, but he must have fallen asleep again soon afterwards.

There's a shaving cream heart left on the mirror in Blaine's ensuite and he's equal parts touched by the sentiment and irritated by the mess. He leaves it there for the moment as he brushes his teeth and ponders the amount of reading he has to get done this weekend.

He hears a phone chime.

Walking back into the bedroom, he sees Kurt's phone right away, sitting on the floor next to the bed, right where his bag had been. It must have fallen out. Blaine picks it up, meaning to put it on the table, when he sees the message on the screen.

_Dave_: _sorry i missed ur message last night. hope u went with skinny jeans, u know how sexy u look in them. got the rose. thanks again._

Panic rises in Blaine's stomach, into his throat.

No, not panic. He drops the phone back on the ground, ignoring the ominous cracking sound. He then promptly runs back into the ensuite and simultaneously empties his stomach of its contents and his heart of its trust in Kurt.


	10. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

As Blaine pours himself back into bed, his whole body is shaking with silent sobbing. His voice is raw from screaming, his throat stings and, despite brushing his teeth three times, he can still taste bile on the back of his tongue.

It doesn't matter, though, because the world has ended.

His sister and brother-in-law return home from their trip sometime in the early afternoon, Blaine doesn't move from his bed. He doesn't acknowledge his sister when she enters his room, he keeps his back towards the door, he ignores the renewed wetness against his cheeks. He doesn't eat the sandwich she brings him a little later, he doesn't drink the soda, he doesn't respond to her questions with anything but "I'm fine, leave it."

Of course, _fine_ is the exact opposite of what he is at the moment.

When Adrienne leaves him finally, under great protest and promise of being back, Blaine gets up locks his bedroom door, grabbing Kurt's iPhone on his way back to bed – the screen is a little cracked from when he dropped it, but he can't bring himself to care. He rests his head against the damp pillow and tries to guess the passcode. He wants to go through all the betrayal right now, he wants to see how wronged he was, how stupid he's been to believe everything Kurt's told him since Christmas.

He spends maybe five minutes trying to guess the passcode before the iPhone locks him out for too long for him to wait. Frustrated, he shoves it onto the night stand before pressing his face into his pillow and screaming once again.

The day passes in a half-asleep daze for Blaine; before he knows it, the sky has begun to grown dark and his room grows cold. The heating kicks in. The upstairs lights go on and he can see a few trees in the yard are illuminated from the glow of Robert's study.

The smell of dinner cooking, as it wafts downstairs into Blaine's bedroom, reminds him that he hasn't eaten since lunchtime yesterday. The scent equally entices and nauseates him.

And he just lies there, staring at the ceiling or the wall or the window or with his eyes closed, wrapped in his comforter or irritably pushing it further down the bed, alternating between crying and silence. He can't actually think anymore. A mantra repeats inside his head.

_Kurt is a liar. He's leaving me for Dave. He's stringing me along. I love him so much. I hate him so much. I'm such an idiot. Kurt's a liar._

There's a soft knock at his door. The handle rattles.

Pocketing the phone like some illicit piece of evidence, Blaine unlocks the door and looks his older sister in the eye.

"What?" he inwardly winces at the sound of his own voice, strained and exhausted.

"The pasta is ready. Do you want to come up and eat?" Adrienne tilts her head kindly, her voice much softer and gentler than Blaine's. "We're not going to make you talk about this."

Blaine nods. He can't find the right words to reply with.

At the dinner table, it feels every bit like being thirteen years old again, like coming home from school with a black eye. He remembers those days, when his sister would pick him up from school and bring him home, clean him up and report everything to their mother – by the time their father was home and the dinner served, no one said anything then, even though they all knew. No one says anything now.

The sound of a key at the front door causes all three at the table to start. Blaine finds himself frozen to his seat as Adrienne rushes out of the room to help Kurt with his coat and invite him in properly.

"Good evening!" Kurt's voice is far too cheery.

"Kurt," Adrienne's voice is hushed, but Blaine doesn't need to strain to hear the conversation. "I'm so glad you're here. Blaine… he's really upset. I don't know what's wrong, he won't talk about it."

"Oh my gosh, is he alright?" Blaine can't but help roll his eyes at the clearly faked sincerity in his _boyfriend's_ voice. "Can I see him?"

"Sure, he's in the dining room."

As Blaine hears Adrienne close the front door, he rushes up from his seat and into the small entryway. There stands the traitor, a smile on his face, which is pink from the cold, passing his coat to her. He has the nerve to blow Blaine a kiss.

"It's okay, Adrienne," _it's not okay at all_, "I'll just talk with Kurt here. Go back to your dinner." Blaine is extremely conscious of how angry his voice is on the verge of becoming. Adrienne passes Kurt back his coat and makes a speedy exit.

"Sweetie," Kurt moves forward, reaching a hand out towards him, "what's wrong? Your eyes are all bloodshot – have you been crying?"

"Don't touch me!" Blaine snaps and bats his hand away.

Kurt steps back, looking confused. "What's wrong?"

"When were you planning on telling me? Or is this like the first time? Thought you could keep a secret?"

"Telling you what? What secret? I just came around to pick up my phone, Blaine." Kurt's sounding as confused as he looks now, but Blaine knows how good an actor his boyfriend can be.

"You and _Dave,_" he says the name like some sort of disease and fishes the iPhone out of his pocket. "Here. You'll probably need that to call your lover."

"My _lover_?" Kurt sounds slightly hysterical as he takes it. He looks down at the screen. "You _broke my phone_?" He's more than slightly hysterical now, his eyes full of hurt. _Good_.

"Yeah, well you broke my heart." Blaine walks over to the front door and pulls it open with some force, causing the panes in the window next to it to shake. "I think you should be leaving now."

Kurt stays resolutely in the entryway.

"I don't know what you've got into your head, you wonderful idiot." his voice is earnest, but Blaine won't be fooled. "Dave is most definitely just a friend. For one thing, he lives on the other side of the country! He is in no way my… _lover_."

"And why should I believe you?" Blaine says bitterly. He shivers a little in the cold air from the open door.

"Because I love you." Kurt speaks simply, moving closer to Blaine.

There's a moment, a lapse of judgement, and Blaine allows himself to be kissed. It's gentle, it sends tingles down his limbs, and it takes all of his energy for Blaine to raise his palms to Kurt's chest and push him away, firmly out the door. Kurt stumbles and falls backwards into the lavender bushes.

"Get out of my life, Kurt Hummel. I don't want to see you around here again."

Blaine slams the door shut. The tears start falling again.

* * *

><p>The week following that Saturday is the very worst of Blaine's life.<p>

The first day, he wakes up before dawn, disorientated. He changes his relationship status on Facebook to "Single". He lets the mouse hover briefly over the _unfriend_ option on Kurt's profile, before going to his settings and just deleting his own account altogether. He can't bring himself to delete Kurt's number from his phone, or to block it. His phone rings eleven times before he puts it on silent. He cries himself to sleep.

The second day, he skips all of his classes and chooses to spend his time playing puzzle games on the internet and listening to Andrew Lloyd Webber musicals. He yells at the cat in the backyard because he can.

The third day, he decides to walk an hour through the snow to campus. He uses the time to think, to feel, to kick at the snow and vent his frustration. He doesn't pay too much attention in class.

The fourth day, he doesn't feel anything anymore except a hollow ache of betrayal and loneliness. He thinks he'll probably never love again.

The fifth day, it was meant to be date day and there are flowers on the doorstep when he gets home from classes. He picks them up, breathing in the sweet smell as he reads the note: _courage_. He walks around the side of the house and throws them in the trash can.

The sixth day, he starts class at 8am and finishes at 8pm, he doesn't have a moment to stop and think. It's nice and it's numbing. When he gets home, he avails himself of the cognac from the liquor cabinet and locks himself in his room.

The seventh day, he wakes up without the hangover he'd been half-hoping for. Instead, he wakes up and wonders for a brief moment why Kurt isn't there with him. He remembers that it's been a week since he pushed him out the door.

And, that afternoon, it ends with a phone call.

Kurt stopped trying to call on Tuesday and Blaine's phone had been almost disconcertingly silent since then. He's unsurprised that no one seems to have even noticed that he deleted his Facebook, and he starts to wonder if anyone even cares about him, perhaps this is all some grand plan to ruin his existence. So, when his screen lights up with Nick's name, he's actually a little relieved.

"Hey you!" He's genuinely glad to have someone to talk with, someone who's on the outside. "Long time no chat - haven't heard from you since Christmas!"

Nick doesn't sound so cheery. He actually sounds kind of pissed off. "What the hell is wrong with you, Anderson?"

Blaine's heart sinks. "You've talked to Kurt, then?"

"Actually, no." Nick takes a breath. "Dave told me."

"_Dave_?"

"Yes, Dave Karofksy. My boyfriend."

Blaine finds himself in an instance of strange coincidence. He wonders just what it is that his life has become, when his one of his Warbler friends, now located in California, is dating the ex-closeted-bully with whom his own ex-boyfriend had cheated.

"No one tells me anything," it comes out as almost a whine as he sinks down onto the sofa. "When did that happen?"

Nick is momentarily cheerful – "Slowly for a few months now, seriously about a week ago. But that's not the point!" Nick's tone sharpens again. "The point is that you pushed Kurt out of your house, you won't answer his calls, and he's barely left his room for a week. His roommates are about this close to calling his family to take him back to Ohio. He's lost all moti-"

"Nick. Stop it," Blaine cuts in, needing to set things clear. "Kurt _lied _to me. And Dave is lying to you, too. I saw the text message, I know they're flirting and sending each other _roses_."

Nick laughs. "Uh, no they're not. What gave you that idea? Kurt's been _telling_ Dave to buy roses, I know that much. I mean, I wasn't that great with the romance stuff either, getting all my moves from Jeff via Skype, but if it wasn't for Kurt, I'm not sure Dave would have asked me out at all…"

"Sorry… what?"

"Kurt and Dave have been swapping relationship advice. It's become their thing."

"Oh." Blaine starts to feel again for the first time. It's a heady rush of emotions – love and self-loathing and hatred and forgiveness and stupidity and joy and fear all at once.

"Knowing you, you've made an idiot of yourself, haven't you? Always singing the solos, never noticing your back-ups – you don't run the show, Blaine. Maybe you need to step back and consider that there's always another side to the story."

It's the best advice, the only real advice, he's had all week.

"Shit, Nick. I'm sorry."

"It's not me you should be apologising to."

"I know," he says softly, wondering how to fix things now. "Can you tell… Dave… though? And… you know what… good for you guys. I'm glad you've found someone."

"I'm glad too," Blaine can practically hear Nick beam through the phone, "but right now, you need to go fix things with your _someone_."

"I'm not sure if I can," he hangs his head, his hand a little looser around the phone.

"Of course you can, you guys are just too perfect."

"I don't think perfection is the problem…" Blaine chuckles darkly.

"You know what, I think perfection is exactly the problem," and with that, Nick hangs up.

Blaine thinks he knows how to fix this.


	11. Chapter Ten

Author's Note: The song featured with lyrics below is "How To Tame Lions" by Megan Washington, the namesake song for this fanfiction. Blaine is thinking of "The Special Two" by Missy Higgins.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Ten<span>

It's been a week since Kurt last saw Blaine.

The scratch on his wrist from falling backwards into the lavender bush, from being _pushed_, has almost healed. The snow is melting outside his window. The screen on his phone, which is never further than a few inches from his hand, is still broken.

And all Kurt wants to do is explain himself, to halt Blaine in his melodramatic conclusion-jumping and show him the truth, but Blaine hasn't answered a single message, he's ignored each call, he's deleted most of his online presence and is ignoring the rest. And Kurt, having been forcibly removed from Blaine's home, is in no rush to visit in person no matter how much he wants to.

It's all enough to make Kurt wonder if he, himself, is at fault here. He's looked at the "incriminating" message – it was the first thing he did after picking himself up from the bushes and calling a cab – and he can see how Blaine could have read it – the flirty outfit approval, the rose. Hell, if the situation was reversed, he might have assumed things as well.

Kurt can't help thinking that perhaps he should have told Blaine about Dave having a boyfriend, but he always tries not to bring him up in conversation, because he knows how upset it makes Blaine.

Which is a problem, too.

The way Kurt reads the situation is thus: he screwed things up in December when he didn't tell Blaine about Dave's call, he screwed up again when he met Dave before telling Blaine about the situation, he screwed up when he expected his boyfriend to understand while being kept on the outside.

Blaine screwed up too of course, but Kurt's all for the self-loathing this week.

He passes the week in a blur of musical clichés. He's certain that at one point, Marcus is pretty much ready to confiscate his laptop and deprive him of his completely fitting and entirely too intense playlist – songs to cry to, songs to scream to, songs that make him feel a million times better, a million times worse.

He finds himself validating his actions that week by the song lyrics he hears, convincing himself that staying in his room for days is the perfect course of action, that it's not his fault and that it is his fault, that things are fine and that the world has ended. But for all the songs he expresses himself through, all the lyrics he sings until his voice hurts, not one tells him how to fix things.

He spends hours on the phone to Mercedes, telling her everything and begging her to not talk to Blaine in turn. He talks through his plans with her; together they compose an email to Blaine, it bounces. Mercedes suggests the flowers on Thursday and Kurt leaves the apartment for the first time in days to visit the florist down the street. He stands there for ages, trying to choose a message to send with the bunch he picked out, settling eventually on _courage_. It was their thing, even if it didn't fit the situation. He hoped it would work.

He regretted it as soon as he got home.

Kurt wasn't surprised when he still didn't hear from Blaine after that.

He figured that, at this point, things were over.

* * *

><p>He wakes with a start on Saturday, as a few loud electric notes come from the other side of the bedroom and abruptly stop. His eyes snap open to see his Marcus at his own desk, looking perplexedly at his laptop and unplugged headphones.<p>

"Sorry, Kurt. I didn't mean to wake you. I thought these were plugged in."

"I's'okay," Kurt yawns as he sits up, pulling his covers with him as he curls his knees up. "I recognise the song."

Marcus takes this as an invitation, pressing play and turning the volume down a little.

_How do you tame a lion? It was a savvy answer, the repartee and argument. You look like a dancer._

Kurt doesn't even notice that he's crying until Marcus brings him a box of tissues and sits on the edge of his bed, pulling him into a brotherly hug.

"Blaine had this album. We listened to it one summer. Every. Single. Day. I got so sick of it." Kurt laughs through his sobs.

_I do not know what you want, I do not know what you want, do not know what you feel, do not know if it's…_

"Do you want me to turn it off?" Marcus asks concernedly as he lets Kurt go.

"It's okay," he replies, hugging his knees.

_So we'll just be happy, happy now. And tomorrow we'll be miserable, right?_

"It's not okay. Blaine is a jerk and you're a wreck."

Kurt smiles at Marcus with tear-stained eyes. "I will be okay. Just, not today."

"Yes, today. Get out of bed; we're going for some retail therapy." Marcus raps him on the knees as he stands up from the bed. "I'll go put the coffee on for you. Pop tart?"

_You can take the east side and I'll take the west. You know I liked it better before all of the scars on your chest._

"Thanks, but I'd rather not ingest sugared cardboard. I'll be out in a moment."

_How do you tame a lion when they are lying low? You'll be my Arthur Miller and I will be your Marilyn Monroe._

The song ends as Marcus carries the laptop from the room and into the kitchen. A more upbeat song, this one from a different album and one that Kurt doesn't know, begins. He closes the bedroom door against the sound while he searches for his clothes and his shower things – he doesn't dare to leave expensive skincare products around housemates who don't value their use or value.

Every little movement hurts. At the beginning of the week it was more an emotional ache, but this is the pain of unused limbs and restless sleep. It's not a sharp pain, more a dull throb. It takes all of his effort to stay upright in the shower as he becomes suddenly aware of how weak he is. But really, if he thinks about it, he hasn't eaten in a week. Milky coffee, soda and pita chips may have kept him going, but they hardly counted as sustenance. As he turns off the water and wraps himself in a towel, he considers maybe accepting that pop tart after all.

In the end, he and Marcus agree to postpone the shopping trip until the afternoon at least. Marcus enlists the help of Deakin, who is also floating about the apartment, and together they set out to make the tastiest brunch known to man on whatever they can locate in the fridge and cupboards.

Kurt sits on one of the stools at the counter and sips at his coffee as the others work on choc-chip pancakes (for Deakin) with fresh fruit (for Marcus) and yoghurt (for Kurt). Toby stumbles in, laden with cameras, as the first pancakes are flipped. The music gets gradually louder and louder, and soon enough the girls from across the hall are knocking at the door and asking for them to quiet down. Toby links up his laptop to the television and shows them his latest footage, asking opinions and advice. Marcus pulls out a few color schemes he's been working on, Kurt critiques his use of aubergine as a feature wall, Deakin burns the pancakes.

It's so very normal, as they all erupt into laughter at the blackened mess, that Kurt almost forgets he's meant to be upset.

There's another knock at the door. The closest, Kurt stands up and opens it, ready to apologise get again to pink-haired Jeanette about the noise.

About a head shorter and a lot less curvy, Blaine Anderson is standing there instead. Unshaven, dressed in old clothes and ratty sneakers, he looks as rough as Kurt feels.

Kurt's grip tightens on the door handle. Blaine curves his shoulders inwards. They stand there, staring at each other in silence – Kurt shocked, Blaine humbled.

"Hey, Hummel! Who is it?" Toby calls out, enough to snap them both from their trance.

"Can I…?" Blaine looks hopeful as he nods towards the interior of the apartment. Kurt shakes his head.

"Not until you tell me why you're here." Kurt's voice is trembling and he's surprised his legs haven't given way.

"I've been an idiot, Kurt, such a _fool_." Blaine speaks quickly but deliberately, as if he's rehearsed but is worried of forgetting the words. "Nick called me. He told me everything. And I thought I'd come around and serenade you. I wanted to find a song that told you how low I've been this week and how terrible I was to you and how sorry I was and all I could think was Missy Higgins and, _fuck_, I'm not going to s-"

Kurt holds up a finger and gives an intense look, causing Blaine to pause. He takes a deep breath, he closes his eyes, he opens them again.

He steps forwards and pulls Blaine into an embrace.

"I'm sorry, too," he says softly, genuinely. "I shouldn't have made things with Dave so secretive." He pulls away enough to look into Blaine's eyes, a hand brushing through his curly mane of dark hair. _My own lion to tame_. "You believe me, don't you, when I say that _nothing _happened and nothing _will ever_ happen?"

"I do… I do, now. Oh…" Blaine is shaking, fighting back tears, "I thought I'd lost you. I thought I'd ruined everything."

"Shhh. Hush, sweetie." Kurt hugs him tight again, his own eyes watering. "It's not your fault. I'm as much to blame as you are. We screwed up. But it's going to be okay. It's going to be okay."

They stand there, swaying gently in the hallway, until the sound of someone clearing their throat breaks them apart. Kurt's housemates are standing in the doorway, not one of them looking impressed.

"You've got some nerve coming around here, Blaine." Marcus's voice is steady, but Kurt can hear that he's angry.

"It's okay, guys. Really." Kurt is suddenly hyperaware of his arms wrapped low and loose around Blaine's waist, their bodies pressed close, the comfort of the situation, the _rightness_.

"We're sorting things out," Blaine offers in turn.

Toby looks them up and down and Deakin says "Maybe you should bring it in out of the hallway."

Kurt's not sure if he means the conversation or Blaine.

* * *

><p>They start by sitting at either end of Kurt's tiny twin bed. Slowly, in detail, they each tell their own side of the story.<p>

Blaine expresses the jealousy that Dave has been causing him since December, how he's only just worked out what that hot feeling in his chest was whenever he heard the name. He tells Kurt how easy it was to make assumptions, how cut off he felt from that part of Kurt's life, how he respects that Kurt needs his own friends, how childish he's been about the situation, how he tried so hard to be perfect, to match up to the grand romances of the musicals and the movies, and how he feels like he's failed.

Kurt explains everything that's been going on, all of Dave's uncertainties that he's not sure he's even meant to share. He calls Blaine out for pushing him away – literally – and for a controlling streak. He complains about the melodrama, about the insistence on a sort of perfection that's just unrealistic, that causes issues. He doesn't need serenades and dates planned to the minute, as nice as they are, if it's going to make things more difficult.

The conversation is not an easy one for either boy, each feeling much older in that hour than their nineteen years apiece. After the apologies are made and the tears are shed, they lay facing each other on that tiny bed, legs intertwined and hands clasped. They share a gentle kiss.

Things are always going to change, nothing can stop that – Kurt and Blaine know this as well as anyone now – but having someone there, someone who'll stick around through the changes, who loves you in spite of your flaws, because of your flaws, who has flaws of their own that you love in turn, is nothing short of a bonus.

The point is to fight the demons and to tame the lions, to come out smiling at the end of it.


End file.
